Page 51 of The Truth about the Rogue
“Evidently, you did not.” Lillian pressed Charlotte’s arm. “My dear sister, the gentleman cares for you a great deal! Is it not evident? Though there is obviously a good deal of confusion within him – or there was, at least, for these poems read like a story.”
“Yes, they do,” Charlotte agreed, her voice rasping with emotion. “He is confused, doubting his own feelings, uncertain of why he is desirous of turning his back on all that he once knew. Then, there is a path towards realization, towards understanding that his own heart has changed and the hope for a new beginning, a future reconsidered… only for the poem at the end to bring an end to that hope.”
“What happened last evening?” Lillian asked, quietly, as Charlotte shook her head. “What lies is he speaking of?”
Charlotte closed her eyes as tears welled up in an instant.
“The very worst, though I believed every word.” A hoarse laugh broke from her. “Though now I find that I am greatly troubled and confused myself, uncertain as to what all of this might mean! What was truth and what was a lie?”
Her sister smiled.
“You will have to ask him.”
“I shall, I–”
“Miss Marshall has come to call.”
The butler opened the door and Miss Marshall rushed in, her face pink and her hand holding The London Chronicle.
“My dear Charlotte, did you see this? Have you read them all? I confess that I have been both astonished and left in awe at the skill he has in writing such beautiful words!”
Charlotte rose to her feet, leaving the paper behind but grasping Miss Marshall’s hand instead.
“Might you come out for a walk with me?”
Miss Marshall blinked.
“A walk?”
“Yes. I have somewhere that I must go, and I cannot have my mother or father with me.”
Understanding drew itself into Miss Marshall’s expression at once.
“Oh, of course. I would be glad to do so.”
“Lillian, might you tell Mama that I have taken a short drive in the carriage with Miss Marshall?” Feeling a little frantic, Charlotte grasped her sister’s hand. “Will you?”
Lillian placed her other hand on top of Charlotte’s, calming her a little.
“I shall. I do hope that you will return to this house happier than you have ever been.”
Charlotte smiled, though a tear slid down her cheek all the same.
“I thank you,” she whispered, pausing for a moment to embrace her sister. “Thank you for practically forcing me to read those poems, Lillian, and for insisting that I wed Lord Kentmore in the first place! I did not think it at the time, did not believe it for many a day, but now, finally, I believe that I shall have the chance of both love and happiness, and my heart is filled with hope at that thought.”
“Then go.” Lillian urged her from the room, with Miss Marshall letting out an excited giggle. “You cannot wait a single moment!”
No, I cannot, Charlotte thought to herself, barely stopping to take her bonnet and gloves.I must speak with him, I must talk with him about it all… and be truthful with him about the state of my heart.
“Lord Kentmore.”
A little breathless, Charlotte walked into his study, the door left open, and Miss Marshall stationed in the hallway, though Charlotte had every belief that she would make her way from one end of the hallway to the other rather than lingering near the door in the hope of hearing every word.
“Charlotte.” Lord Kentmore’s voice was breathless as he rose from his study chair, moving so quickly that it scraped back on the floor. “You… you are here. I…” Seemingly a little flustered, he pushed one hand through his hair, then gestured to a chair. “Please, do come and sit down. I–”
“I read your poems.”
Lord Kentmore came towards her, rounding his desk as though he could not get to her fast enough.
